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In the morning when Daniel awoke, he made himself a little rule—no more Shroud talk before bed. His day was mostly filled with chores—mowing the lawn and watching Georgie while his mom tended her flower garden—but as soon as he could slip away, Daniel pedaled his bike along a route he hadn’t taken in months; one that he’d hoped to never take again.

The Plunkett estate was hidden away at the end of a private drive just off Cedar Lane. The towering mansion had been empty since Herman’s disappearance, a lonely place of gathering dust and wild, overgrown gardens. But Herman’s house had felt deserted for years. The old millionaire had lived a hermitlike existence, playing the part of the infirm, doddering eccentric to the hilt. With the exception of a visiting nurse and a few gardeners, no one came to or went from that house, even when Herman was still alive. Or at least that was the charade, the carefully crafted play, that Herman had put on for years. In truth the villain had had the run of Noble’s Green as the Shroud, flitting in and out of the shadows, stealing the powers and memories of generations of the town’s gifted children. Over many years he’d used his influence, his money, and his frightening abilities to control the town in unseen ways, to dominate and terrorize the children while keeping the adults ignorant of their
town’s strange goings-on. In the end, he died a bitter and paranoid old man. Herman trapped himself in his own lie, like a bottled spider.

Which was why it seemed all the more surreal as Daniel walked his bike up the main drive and saw the change that had come over the Plunkett house. The front yard was buzzing with an army of gardeners trimming the shrubs and pulling weeds. Men on ladders were applying a new coat of paint to the peeling facade, and the heavy curtains were drawn back and every last window was thrown wide open. Someone was airing out the place—like they were expunging what was left of old Herman. Daniel remembered the distinctive smell that had permeated the house, a mixture of musty paper and mediciny ointments. It was the kind of smell that left dust in your nose.

Now it smelled of cut grass and fresh paint.

Two enormous moving vans were parked next to the long garage. Seeing the vans there, Daniel was instantly transported back to his first day in Noble’s Green. He’d met Mollie on that day, and that chance meeting had sparked the greatest adventure of his life. It had introduced him to a world he’d never dreamed possible.

A year later and here he was, confronted with a new mystery. There was a puzzle here, a problem that needed working out. And though their current situation wasn’t nearly as dire as their long battle with the Shroud, it was still serious. Who was Theo Plunkett? What danger might he and his family, even inadvertently, pose to his friends?

Somewhere deep down, Daniel had missed this feeling. He had to admit it—despite last night’s bad dreams, it felt good to be on the case again.

And so he found himself walking briskly, lightly even, as he approached the front door. He even hummed a little song he made up on the spot. It was mostly tuneless, but upbeat. His own detective-movie soundtrack.

He was ringing the doorbell—and just hitting his theme song’s crescendo, the soaring flourish that signaled to the audience that here was the hero—when he caught his reflection in the glass door. The hand he was holding up to the doorbell wasn’t there. There was nothing except a charred stump.

When Daniel blinked everything was back to normal. Five skinny fingers. Five chewed-on nails. It had all been in his mind, a flashback to last night’s nightmare, but the image left a chilled pit in his stomach despite the hot summer’s day. Daniel would’ve sat down on the step except someone was coming to the door. So he took a few deep breaths—in through the nose and out through the mouth—and concentrated on not throwing up.

The door inched open just a crack, and a shriveled face peeked out. Beady eyes blinked at him from behind thick plastic glasses. A familiar, liver-spotted bald head poked forward, its mouth turned up in a thin-lipped snarl.

As if the dream flashback hadn’t been enough, Daniel was now staring into the face of Herman Plunkett, returned from the dead. But this Herman carried a bit more
poundage. Where the old one was stick thin, this one was more … pear-shaped. But the generous double chin couldn’t hide the family resemblance. It wasn’t Herman, but it was unmistakably a Plunkett.

“Eh?” said the old man. “What do you want?”

“Granddad?” called a boy’s voice from inside the house. “What are you doing up?”

The old man threw Daniel a sour look and then shouted back over his shoulder. “The door wouldn’t stop buzzing. Someone has to answer it!”

Theo Plunkett appeared behind the old man and gently put a hand on his arm. “I told you to ring your bell if you needed anything. I could’ve gotten it.”

“You can’t hear the doorbell with that music contraption in your ears, so how are you going to hear my bell?”

“Hey, Daniel,” said Theo with a wry smile. “Give me a minute, will you?”

Daniel nodded and waited as Theo and his grandfather disappeared inside. Apparently the Plunkett family genetics didn’t stop with looks—a sour disposition was obviously a dominant gene. He could still hear the old man chastising poor Theo, even with the door closed.

After a few minutes Theo returned. Fortunately, this time he was alone.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Granddad’s seriously lacking in social skills.”

“No problem,” answered Daniel. “Your granddad just … surprised me. I didn’t think Herman had any family.”

“Granddad’s actually Herman’s brother, Oliver Plunkett. They got separated when they were toddlers. Grew up in different parts of the country, didn’t even know the other existed. By the time they found each other, Herman didn’t want much to do with our side of the family. Granddad said they had been apart so long that they had nothing in common except a knack for making money. But if you ask me, they were two peas in a pod. Both cranky and stubborn. That’s why they couldn’t stand each other—they were too alike.”

Theo cocked his head and looked down at Daniel. “Did you know Herman well? I only met him once, but he didn’t exactly seem like the type to make friends with little kids.”

Daniel decided to let the “little kids” remark go. Theo wasn’t
that
much older than he was. A couple of years, tops.

“I knew him,” said Daniel. “But I wouldn’t say we were friends. Seeing your granddad there was like seeing a ghost.”

So Herman had a brother, and that brother had had a family. The story made sense, and Daniel could picture Herman’s reaction to finding out he had a sibling—he’d manage to see him as a threat to the carefully constructed fiction that he’d been working on all those years. The delusion that he was somehow doing good, that he was a protector and not a predator. Herman had needed to stay friendless and alone, lest anyone get close enough to make him face the truth about his life.

For some reason, out of everyone, he’d chosen Daniel to confide in. He’d had the deranged thought that Daniel
would believe the lie too. That he’d support him in it and even take up his legacy.

About that, just like everything else, Herman had been wrong.

But he’d also been almost superhumanly devious, so Daniel wasn’t prepared to let his guard down just yet. Theo and his granddad were still strangers. And they were still Plunketts, after all.

“Really, I just came by to see how you were doing,” Daniel said. “That was some accident yesterday.”

“I’m fine. Just ruined a pair of shoes. And a car, of course. How’s your friend?”

“Eric’s okay, thanks to you.”

Theo shook his head. “No way. Like I said before, you did the rescuing. He owes you, not me.”

“Yeah, well, I think he wants to thank you anyway. In person. Would it be all right if I brought him by sometime?”

“Sure. Technically I’m under house arrest, but I’ll get out of that soon enough.”

“Grounded, huh?”

“No, I mean I’m under
house arrest—
as in I was arrested. See, technically, I just turned fifteen, so technically I can’t drive. I kind of borrowed one of Dad’s cars. He’s down at the police station trying to get it to go away. He’s good at that sort of thing.” Theo shrugged and put his hands in his pockets like he was trying to act embarrassed, but he wouldn’t drop his cocky sneer.

“Still,” he said, “I guess I’m lucky to be alive. Weird to
survive something like that without a scratch, huh?” He held on to Daniel’s gaze for a long time—uncomfortably long. Daniel thought about that moment yesterday when they’d looked at each other as Theo’s car was miraculously suspended midfall and, just for a few seconds, floated in the air.

“Yeah,” said Daniel. “It was a heck of a scare. Funny at times like that how things seem to go in slow motion, right? Like a movie.”

“Sure,” answered Theo, not breaking his stare. “Slow motion.”

He looked like he might say something more, but he was interrupted by a car coming up the long driveway. The limousine that Mollie had described was pulling up in front of the house.

“All hail the conquering hero,” said Theo. “Dad’s home.”

The stretch limo parked and a large, thick-necked chauffeur got out and greeted Theo with a tip of his cap. Then he swung around to the rear of the car and opened the door, stepping back to make room for … a dog. A giant golden retriever bounded out of the car. It had some kind of slobbered-on stuffed animal in its mouth, and it was coming straight for Daniel.

Tail wagging, it reared up on its back paws and playfully pounded Daniel on the chest, nearly knocking him onto his backside. A long string of saliva dangled precariously in front of Daniel’s face as the dog presented his chewed-upon trophy for inspection.

“Better give in,” called a man’s voice. “Barney won’t give up until you give Mr. Pickles a throw.”

“What’s …,” said Daniel as he struggled to keep his balance against the big dog’s weight. “What’s a Mr. Pickles?”

“Mr. Pickles is what’s left of my son’s favorite stuffed rabbit-bear. Looked a little like a rabbit when we first got it, a little like a teddy, but not very much like either. He’s more of a headless mop these days, thanks to Barney.”

A middle-aged man, double-chinned and balding and dressed in a pair of outrageous Bermuda shorts, had exited the limo and was strolling up the drive, a big grin on his jowly face. Daniel could see the Plunkett in him, only the thin sneer had been replaced with the good-natured smile and extra pounds of someone who enjoyed life—perhaps a little too much. Daniel liked him instantly.

“He’s right,” said Theo. “Barney won’t take no for an answer.”

Daniel put his hand out and tried not to visibly flinch as Barney dropped the soggy mass of fur and stuffing that was Mr. Pickles into his open palm. Then the dog plopped down again on all fours and lowered his head to the ground, while sticking his butt up in the air in a classic puppy pose.

Daniel gave Mr. Pickles a throw, a long line of slobber trailing behind it, with Barney in hot pursuit.

Daniel searched for something to wipe his hand on.

“Sorry about that,” said Theo.

“Aw, it’s just love!” said Theo’s dad. “Barney’s more dog than even he knows.”

“That’s okay,” said Daniel, resorting to his pant leg to dry his Barney-ized hand. “He’s nice.”

Theo’s dad stuck out his hand, careless of the dog spittle on Daniel’s. “I’m Theodore Plunkett. I see you’ve met Junior.”

His grip was firm. A businessman’s handshake.

“Daniel Corrigan. I was there at the … accident. I was just coming by to check up on him.”

“You mean the scene of the crime?” Mr. Plunkett was eying Daniel’s bike, parked just a few feet away. “I approve of your choice of transportation, son! Eco-friendly and cost-effective and, most importantly, legal! Junior, here, could learn a thing or two from you, I suspect.”

Theo shook his head but didn’t say anything. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder if this seemingly good-natured ribbing was for real. If Daniel had taken the family car out and wrecked it—underage, no less—his dad would have grounded him for life. He’d look like Grandpa Plunkett by the time he reached parole.

“Well, Mr. Plunkett, that bridge
is
dangerous. My gram used to say that it was a deathtrap.”

“Well, I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt,” said Mr. Plunkett. “Cars can be replaced easily enough. But kids are expensive.”

Daniel smiled at Mr. Plunkett’s … joke?

“Why don’t you come back tomorrow, Daniel?” said Mr. Plunkett. “Junior and I have to have a father-to-criminal talk, but I’m sure Theo’d like a tour of the town. A bike tour!”

Daniel looked at Theo. After the earlier “little kids” comment he wasn’t sure how Theo would react, but he was happy to see Theo grinning.

“I’d be up for it. You free?”

“Sure,” said Daniel. “Be happy to.”

“Good!” said Mr. Plunkett, clapping his hands. “That’s settled then! Now, Daniel, say goodbye to Barney.”

The big retriever had finished mauling Mr. Pickles and had trotted back over to where the humans were talking. He wagged his tail appreciatively as Daniel patted his head and said his goodbyes.

D
aniel was halfway home when he realized he had never even stepped inside Theo’s front door. He’d been stonewalled, but whether it had been an accident or on purpose was hard to know for sure. He hadn’t gotten so much as a peek inside Herman Plunkett’s old home, but the trip hadn’t been a total waste of time. He’d made some kind of connection with Theo, and maybe he could use that connection to get inside the mansion at a later date. At the very least, he might have made a new friend.

A friend with a taste for stealing his father’s cars, apparently. This was an aspect of Theo’s life that Daniel doubted he’d ever understand.

Daniel had just pulled into his subdivision when he saw Rohan standing on the sidewalk, waiting for him and pointing at something overhead. It was still late summer, but the sun had started dipping lower earlier in the evening. The days were getting shorter. Against the backdrop of a burnt-orange sky, Eric appeared. He whipped up a few prematurely fallen leaves as he landed—a glimpse of the change of seasons to come.